Possibility
by RubyGloom7
Summary: Possibility is a fickle force in the universe. It presents itself at unseemly moments and, swift as it came, leaves you shaking and wondering what the hell just happened. (Romance if you squint. Hard. For now it's a one-shot but I might turn it into a collection of drabbles if I manage to write another two one-shots. Rated M for language so far.)


**Note: **Hello there. This is my first GaaraxSakura fanfic so I hope I did good. Please enjoy and allow me to suggest you listen to the song 'Shiny Shiny' performed by DWB feat. Nirgilis. If you know Deadman Wonderland you know which song I'm talking about. It inspired me a lot while writing this so I think it should help build the atmosphere. Please review cuz I'd love you if you did.

Now please do enjoy:)

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**Possibility**

_Possibility is a fickle force in the universe; __it presents itself at unseemly moments __and, swift as it came, leaves you shaking __and wondering what the hell just happened._

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Sometimes we can't control things. Ever since the day of our birth(a day we didn't pick) our cells started to die. Slowly, within each boring second, we are dying. And we can't help it.

Nevertheless, there are things we _can_ control. We are given comfort in the small things. We are able to choose certain things, like what brand of toothpaste we'll use, whether we want to go to college in the hopes for decent higher education and better opportunities, or well, who we'd like to spend the rest of our lives with.

We are given that option. _'So why?'_ Sakura bemoaned in her head. _'Why would those __**idiots**__ I have for parents decide to get together?'_

Maybe they'd been born sadomasochistic pricks and enjoyed fighting to remind each other of their dying cells. They were like giant magnifiers of wrinkles and failures one to the other, and they couldn't give a flying fuck if she was in the car, listening to their senseless bickering and attempting without success to focus on something, _anything_ else in the world on the other side of the window. But there was nothing outside, just more cars with people inside going somewhere. Doing something.

She turned to look at her gesticulating mother and screaming father on a whim_. 'Idiots. And what the __**hell**__? I'm in the backseat, there is nothing to keep me from listening. Do you even __**care**__?_'

They didn't. If anything, all she was to them was a weighty chain; not that they didn't have enough reasons to have overbearing lives by themselves. She was simply some sort of pillar among many others that held up fight after fight after piling fight. She kept them together, but all she wanted to do was scream at them that they didn't have to stay together because she wouldn't care either way. They had a fucking choice.

However, she never screamed. She just watched from a corner in the background, thinking that maybe it was only fitting that they made each other so miserable as a form of punishment fo making _her_ so fucking _tired_ all the time.

That decision backfired in a way too subtle for her to notice at first. Their little misery bubble had trapped her in a world where her breath was visible against the car's window and she closed her eyes wondering where the girl who would trace random, idle patterns and figures on the glass went off to. She was in a world where she had to lower the window because the sound of cold rain being buffeted by the wind was strong enough to muffle some of the noise inside the misery bubble.

That was her out.

If she closed her eyes hard enough she could be just about anything and everything she wanted. She could be a shark in the middle of the sea; her grey shark skin being graced by the liquid silk all around her, her teeth sharp and deathly no matter what prey she chose. Or who cares, she could be a worm living underground; her squishy little body writhing that way and the other in search for something to feed herself with, her world reduced to pure survival instincts and she would smell of wet earth and grass. She could be sand itself and she would get carried away in whatever direction the gentlest of winds saw fit. She would circle the globe countless times, unsuspected and inconsequential. Time would stretch on and on with no end and it would mean nothing to her; it wouldn't affect her at all.

But wasn't she like sand already? Just a little bit?

Her hand moved, blindly reaching out for the string that wound around her neck. Once upon a time when her eyes would widen with bright, childish wonder she'd walked upon a forgotten beach in search for sea treasures. She'd collected shiny trinkets with no value except that which she bestowed on it, feathers from seagulls out of sight and shells and whatnot. But by the end of the day she wouldn't be able to take any of that home, so she'd clung to a small pebble she had found very pretty under the golden light of the dying sunset as her mother pulled her away from the salty breeze.

Years later the pebble still hung from a worn string around her neck. Her only jewelry…

That made her think of the trinkets from the past: Swords and paintings and vases that belonged in museums. Her hand-made necklace had no business in a museum but then again, nothing her hands ever produced would. A fatalistic thought suggested her then that the mockery of a necklace she adored just so much would be all she'd leave behind to mark her stay in the world when the proverbial final curtain fell. She was average at best and for all she knew of clairvoyance she would fall at the hands of some deranged psycho-killer who would chop her down to tiny, neat pieces. He'd bury her in a desolated forest. She'd be found some time later and all the cops would have to identify her would be a bloodied pebble and a string.

And that'd be it.

Her name would be carved in a rock somewhere.

And that'd be it.

'_**Inconsequential**_.'

The shrill sound of metal complaining slammed her back into the misery bubble. Her mother had apparently said or done something upsetting to make her husband take a rather abrupt and violent turn. But quickly enough the car gained some stability back.

They were still yelling at each other, in this highway of a life.

'_Shit_.' she cursed quite annoyed_. 'Who give a damn about the fucking phone bills?' _Then she looked back and forth between her parents. _'What were they __**thinking**__?_'

She'd once watched a romance movie. She kind of liked it. A man fell in love with a troubled woman; a drug addict barely clinging to dear sanity. By the end of the movie the woman had asked the question plaguing Sakura's head the entire time:

"_Why me? What made you notice __**me**__?"_

The man had answered that he'd seen something in her eyes_. _Something hard to explain. Something _special_.

The last scene portrayed the happy couple downing cups of coffee on a suburban-looking porch all while the woman painted on a canvas. She'd become an artist.

Her parents… had they fallen madly in love? Had there been true love at the beginning? Or was it just lust and bad luck during a one-night stand that had them in the place they were today?

Cursing an unknown brand of very possibly cheap-ass condoms, Sakura reached into her backpack for her knitting kit. Her grandmother had given it to her saying that you never knew when you would need one.

'_Thanks granny. You were totally right_.'

So she set to work, using the biggest and strongest-looking needle in the arsenal, she started to carving small and meticulous letters into the pebble. It was difficult but damn worth it if it kept her brain from paying too much attention to a never-ending argument running along the lines of _'…never home! What am I supposed to __**think**__?_'

Whit her task done, they were still nowhere near her grandmother's retirement home, but that was just fine by her. The rain had stopped some time ago and the breeze was simply perfect. She glanced out the window and didn't so much as bother to return the shy smile from a little blond angel of a girl inside a blue van.

'_So many people. I don't know any of them and they don't know me nor would they care to. Love's a joke. No one's out there just waiting to find me and I'm not waiting to be found._'

She meant it, but that didn't stop her from wondering when she'd become so cynical. Was it in her genes? She wondered about this and much more as she looked ahead into the distance. An orange-red sundown bleeding into the clouds waved at her as it rapidly faded into the horizon.

'_I don't mind falling asleep to that._'

She'd take just a brief nap and before she knew it she'd wake up to her grandmother's familiar voice and she'd run like hell was chasing her to hug her. Yes. She could almost smell her old sweater's flowery scent… she always smelled so good.

Sleep was coming, stringing along more random thoughts as she clutched her necklace.

'…_or a bird, high up in the sky. The very wind under its wings. Or the hellishly warm sun watching shooting stars fall against an immensely black void. Just about __**anything**__. I could be-'_

Metal screeched again and this time the sound warned that the car wouldn't stay upright; not when the crash had been nothing short of 75 miles per hour and another vehicle was veering right at her side of the car. The glass shattered instantly as the inevitable, lethal blow was delivered without mercy.

Total mayhem. The misery bubble exploded and everything was flying. Floating. Zero gravity. The glass twinkled in mid-air like pretty stars in the endless void of the wreckage and Sakura barely recognized the faint sound of bone breaking under the terrible pressure of metal. When it was all over, she ended up with half her body still inside the car. How she hadn't been flung straight out was a mystery. But there were other things to worry over, like how her legs wouldn't obey her. Something was wrong, very terribly wrong, because she couldn't move _at all._

Choking and panting, her head rolled and her eyes traveled to lay on the motionless bodies of her parents.

Death.

It was there. She could sense it in the frigid air, in the stillness of the almost-night, in the stench of gasoline and smoke and burned metal and blood. God, she couldn't move and she could sense death approaching, limping towards her, stepping over broken glass and puddles or dirty water.

"Hey! You okay?" the voice of Death was male, hollow and raspy and not too unpleasant. "Can you move?"

'_What stupid question is that? No, I can't freaking move! I can't even breath… I'm a shark in the middle of the ocean, There's no oxygen underwater._'

"Don't worry, I hear sirens. An ambulance will be here soon. Hey… can you hear me?"

'_No. Sirens… mermaids singing. In the ocean… Or a bird, I'm a bird… high up… in the sky…_'

The teenage boy kneeled next to her after stealing a grim glance at the other bodies in the upturned vehicle, trying to discern what was wrong with her. Her eyes were glossy, almost as if unseeing. She was muttering something…

"What?" he strained to hear and searched for words to keep her focused on him. "I'm Gaara. My siblings and I were inside the red car. What's your-?"

Her eyes lingered on him but he was suddenly distracted by the object in her right palm. He put his fingers on the cool, rough surface of a small pebble with a thick dark string tied around it. His eyes flashed up as something caught his attention right before flickering out of existence in her green gaze. His fingers curled and brushed the cautiously carved letters that read: Sakura.

The girl's name. On the pebble.

Gaara shuddered. He'd seen _something_… in her eyes.

And so, confusedly, with wonder, his heart spasmed within his chest.

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I really cannot believe _that_ was the first this I post for the GaaraxSakura fans... Oh wellXD


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